Out of Your Head
by screammealullaby
Summary: Photographer Arthur Kirkland's next job takes him from England to America for to photograph one Alfred F. Jones, what will happen?  full summary inside, it's not as lame as it sounds  AU, UsUk to ensue
1. Arthur, You Have A New Assignment

**Alright, starting in the world of the AU, so don't be mean! Arthur Kirkland is a nature photographer from England, and is slightly shocked when he is informed his new photography job is for an experimental segment the magazine he works for about American culture. Arthur's assignment? Photographing Alfred F. Jones in the cultural society known as New York City.**

"Arthur, I have a new assignment for you. It's...different, but I have sincere faith in you that you can do it, right-o?" Arthur Kirkland, photographer specializing in nature, listens intently as his boss tells him of his next photo assignment.

"Yes yes, well then, where will I be headed on this one?" He stands, straightening his clothes and picking up his camera bag.

"Pack your bags Arthur, you're going to America!" His boss stands as well, holding out his hand for to shake.

"A-America? But, you run an _English_ magazine, why am I going there?" He shakes his hand reluctantly.

"We're doing a story on American culture; we want to see how it differs from our own." He smiles brightly, taking a drink of his tea.

"So that's how you mean, different huh? Well, what am I photographing then? I assume, if it's about culture it definitely won't be what I'm used to."

"You assume correctly sir! You'll be shadowing and photographing one, Alfred F. Jones if I'm not mistaken. Do behave while you're in America." He laughs jokingly. "Alright, everything you need to know is in here," he hands him a large, and thick, envelope. "There will be a reporter from time to time though we've tried to avoid having both of you there, we want him to feel comfortable. This is not in fact an interrogation. You're plane leaves at 5:00 am tomorrow morning, be at the airport by 3:30 if you will. You know how these things can be."

"Of course sir, I'll be there on time. Is that all then? You say everything I need is in here, then I suppose I should be off to get ready. Farewell then, sir." Arthur smiles and shakes his bosses hand again, hoisting his camera bag over his shoulder.

"Alright, do enjoy your time in America! Mind you, your expenses are paid; motel and such. It should take but a week! You're ticket is round trip, a week from the day after tomorrow, that way you can settle in tomorrow night. You'll be going out to dinner with Mr. Jones tomorrow night, you have reservations for 5:00 so you two can get acquainted." His boss adds.

"Alright sir, will I be informing you when I land?" Arthur inquires, his hand on the door knob.

"If you don't mind, do keep me informed on progress if you might. Well then, I suppose you should be off. Enjoy yourself!" He smiles at his photographer on last time as he bids him farewell.

Arthur returns home, already tired. He sighs. _Why the bloody hell do I have to go to America?_ He doesn't like the idea of doing something so different, in another country no doubt. Now the matter is, who is Alfred F. Jones? Arthur sighs heavily, falling onto his bead. "I suppose I should be packing."

Arthur rummages through his closet, pulling out a suitcase stamped with the union jack and began throwing clothes in. He focuses more on getting everything he needs for his camera. Finally, once everything is packed and ready to go, he sets his alarm and falls into bed, instantly falling asleep.

-beep beep beep beep- "Damn it... Time to get up already?" He shuts off the alarm and yawns. His morning seems to drift by; showering, eating and going to the airport, waiting for the plane, getting on the plane. The whole ritual is performed as if Arthur is in a daze; a walking coma. He sleeps lightly on the plane, though he has a rudely loud person next to him and the turbulence over the ocean is nothing to brush off.

"Please fasten your safety belts, we'll be descending shortly and thank you for flying with us." A robot voice comes over the loud speaker. Arthur rolls his eyes.

Soon enough, the poor Brit is on the ground again. It's currently 3:00, the flight having taken longer than expected he has 2 hours before he has to be at the restaurant. New York City; he hasn't even left the airport and yet he's already in a mix between terror and enthrallment. The people are so odd... Some are dressed ridiculously, some professionally and so many various other people his brain can hardly process. He reads over the first instructions from the folder under his arm.

_'Mr. Jones will pick you up from the airport. He says you'll know him when you see him? If it helps, I've enclosed a picture of him. Good luck.'_

"Helpful..." He sighs once more. "Well, I'll be lucky if I do find him I suppose." He looks for the picture his boss mentioned, not finding it. "Now I'll _really _be lucky. Guess I'll have to get a cab."

"Heyyyy British dude!" He hears a _very_ loud voice screaming and instinctively turns to the source, as does a good majority of the people around. He looks over to see a blond man, slightly taller than himself in a bomber jacket. He's laughing loudly and waving a sign that says 'Arthur Kirkland' and the Brit flushes with embarrassment.

"Mr. Jones, I presume?" He asks, hoping to silence him. It seems to work.

"Hm?" He stops laughing and looks down at the Englishman, beautiful blue eyes set behind thin frames. Arthur finds himself hypnotized, wanting a picture of the man as he was there. He got a better look at him now; he noticed beyond his blond hair and stunning blue eyes he was well built with a smile to die for. "Don't be so nerdy, call me Alfred, or better yet, Al!" He snickers again, taking the bag from Arthur and beckoning him to follow.

They climb into the American's car and Arthur smiles a bit to himself. _'This could be a fun job after all.'_

_**~K**_

**Do let me know if you like it, or what I should do. Remember, be kind this is my first attempt at AU stuff mkay? No flames please, and bacon to reviewers! ^,^ Reviews make me write faster too! Make a writer's day, R&R!**


	2. Meet Alfred F Jones

The ride to the motel was long and filled with the younger man's joyous ramblings about how excited he was. He explained about life in America, and all the attractions there were in NYC. He'd continually take his eyes off the road, it wasn't dangerous as there was a ton of traffic, to look at the Brit with a beaming smile.

Every time he did so, Arthur would blush slightly and tighten his hand on his camera bag wanting nothing more than to take his picture right then. _Work starts tomorrow... I'll take a thousand shots of him, now's not the time._ He chanted in his head, reminding himself not to be awkward.

They had gotten to his motel, he left his luggage and camera, and they set back out.

Now, they're sitting at the restaurant looking over the menus. "Get whatever you want dude, I got this one covered!" One blue eye winks sweetly and Arthur raises an eyebrow, about to argue who's covering the bill but he's interrupted as a kind looking waitress comes over with a wide smile.

"Hi there, can I start you off with drinks?" She holds a tablet in her hand and her eyes flicker between the pair. Alfred stares expectantly at the Brit, obviously telling him to go first. Stuttering under the stare of those damned beautiful eyes, he manages "I-I'll have a spot of tea if you would, just regular." She smiles wider before turning to the American.

"I'll have a Coke!" He exclaims happily and with the promise of a quick return, the waitress disappears. "So, Artie, what exactly are you taking pictures of?"

"It's Arthur, rather. Anyway, I haven't read all of it, but the overview is that I need pictures of you participating in the ideal American culture." He crosses his legs uncomfortably, still uneasy under the sapphire gaze.

"So basically, me doing my stuff? That's easy enough!" He laughs again, leaning on his hand. The waitress returns, setting down the drinks.

"I'll be right back to take your order." And she's gone again.

"Well alright, where do you want to go first tomorrow?" Alfred looks at him curiously as he takes a drink from his soda.

"I have to check and see if my boss specified a location." Arthur stares down awkwardly.

"Oh right, you have to actually work tomorrow..." Wait, he wasn't talking about the photos? "Ok, then what do you want to do tonight? It'll still be early when we get out of here, we can get to know each other better!"

Arthur struggles to find words, but is interrupted before he can.

"Oh sorry, I guess you wanna get back and sleep..." He looks away as if guilty of something.

"No, not that!" Arthur blurts and regrets it. "Er, I mean... No, we should do something... I like to know about what I photograph be it a place or person. Though, I must say you're the first person I've been assigned to."

"Oh right, you're a landscape dude huh? Your boss said you've been all over Europe!"

"You two talked about that? I see... Well yes, I've been through Europe, taking pictures from the Eiffel tower in France, the Colosseum in Italy, Park Güell in Spain and even Aya Sofya in Turkey... I've seen it all I suppose. I was actually expecting to go to Asia soon, but got the news of coming to America." He snickers shyly, feeling he's said too much.

"Well, I'll make sure you have the most amazing time here! So, how long will you be here, like, a month?" He takes another drink of his Coke.

"No, I leave a week from tomorrow." Alfred chokes on his soda, looking quite terrified in fact.

"No way! Only a week?" Those beautiful eyes seem pit fallen and Arthur smiles at him.

"Yes, only a week. It doesn't take long to photograph things you know." He laughs slightly.

A whimper escapes the American, but it goes unaddressed as the waitress returns. "Alright, I'm sorry for the wait, what can I get you boys?"

Arthur orders cod and a salad, and Alfred orders a hamburger with french fries. Already, the two cultures are proving their differences. _I bet the journalist in charge of this article will have fun._ The Brit thinks to himself about the journalists that work for the same magazine as himself, pondering which of them was assigned to the job. There's the Greek boy,Heracles but his stories are more poetic than comparative... Francis Bonnefoy, the one journalist Arthur _hates_ working with, though he certainly has a way with his words...

"Anyway, I guess we'll have to make the best out of this week!" Alfred interrupts his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, I suppose so yes." He takes a drink of his tea, scowling a little. It's definitely an American blend rather than English. "So tell me more about yourself."

"Me? Ummm, not much to say." Alfred laughs again. "My boss is friends with yours so I guess that's why I'm the subject of your story. I was a model for a while, but I got promoted to his assistant. I still do some shoots from time to time though. My boss actually runs one of the most popular magazines in New York, which is cool."

"A model? How fitting, that makes perfect sense." Arthur accidentally says. A dark blush bleeds over his cheeks as he realizes he said that out loud.

Alfred though, is oblivious. "Yep, a model. Dude, are you ok? You look kinda red." He cocks his head with genuine wonder. Arthur flushes darker against his will to banish it and quickly shakes his head.

"Just getting used to the American air I suppose? I'm quite fine thanks." He takes another drink of his tea in an attempt to distract his mind. Why is he so flustered around the lad?

With that, they continue their small talk as they eat their dinner, even staying a while after they've finished to keep talking. As they finally leave, they begin towards Alfred's car but he stops them. He grabs the Brit's hand and pulls him along. "Come on, you can't get a good view of the city from a car, let's go for a walk." It's barely 6:30, and the sun is still beaming on the city.

Arthur retrieves his hand, putting it in his pocket and looks around at the tall buildings, ignoring Alfred's confusion. He takes in the view of the bustling streets, cars everywhere, towering structures and hundreds of people making their way on the sidewalks. The architecture was a bit different than that of England, and he marveled at all there was to see.

"Isn't it great?" Alfred beamed in pride of his town, throwing his arm over Arthur's shoulders. "Hey, wanna go for dessert?"

"Uh, sure I suppose." He smiles back at the American, finally starting to relax under his attention.

"Great! I know just the place! It's not too far from here either!" They walk on, and just a short while later they come across a cozy little place.

Arthur notices the name, _Once Upon a Tart_.

"Come on, they close at seven!" Alfred pulls him by his hand again into the small shop. The American orders a few scones, tarts and cookies. He pays the person at the counter and soon after they leave just as they start closing. "Great timing eh?" He laughs, pulling out a cookie. He hands the box of treats to his new friend and Arthur retrieves a scone.

He stares at it questionably, wondering what an American scone is like. "Dude, it's not poisoned, just eat it!" Alfred snickers with a mouthful. Arthur smiles lightly and takes a bite. Not bad at all, not British but not bad.

Sudden ringing begins and Alfred digs a cell phone out of his pocket. "Heyyy! Mattie!" He practically yells, a few people stare at him but keep walking.

"Oh, yeah that reminds me..." Arthur pulls out his own cell and phone's his boss. "Hello?... Yes sir, I made it... Yes, dinner was fine, he's showing me around now..."

"_Oh wonderful, he's quite the charmer yes?"_

"I beg your pardon? Y-yes sir, I suppose he is... Yes, fine. I'll let you know how tomorrow goes... Alright... Yes sir, alright, good evening." Arthur flushes and glares at his phone as he hangs up. "Quite the charmer indeed."

"Yeahhh alright Mattieee! See you soon!" Alfred hung up his phone as well and turned back to the Brit. "Hey, wanna meet my brother? Or you can go back to your motel..." It was obvious which the American wants him to choose.

"I'd love to meet your brother." He smiles, and Alfred grins and hugs him. "He's just getting off work, let's go!" They walk more, and Arthur wonders if Alfred will be able to find his car. Of course he will, he lives in this city. He takes in more of the sights and people.

"Mattie!" Alfred's loud shout suddenly breaks his thoughts. A blond boy up ahead turns around. Arthur marvels at the sight; he definitely resembles his brother, though he has violet eyes and looks embarrassed by the others display. His hair is slightly longer, and he seems somewhat shy.

"Hey Al!" He chimes as he walks over to the pair.

"Mattie, this is Artie, he's the photographer for that British magazine thing. Artie, my big brother Mattie!" Alfred beams as the pair smiles at each other.

"Arthur." The Brit corrects, holding out his hand. _His elder brother? I thought he'd would be the younger one..._

"Matthew." He shakes the others hand.

"Mattie has been in Canada for a long time, but he recently got a job down here for the summer!" Alfred clarified, patting his back.

Time continued faster than any of them had liked. They continued walking together, stopping at a few side shops and such that we're around as the sun drifted down below the horizon. "Well, we should be getting home eh?" Matthew turns to Alfred.

"Aww I guess Mattie..." Alfred face falls to a sad expression. They'd gotten back to his car, and are now driving. "Hey, do you care if I drop you off first then take him to his hotel? I mean, since were not far from home."

"Eh? Sure, that's fine, just don't get back too late." The Canadian yawns.

"Why would I...?" He wonders and blushes when his brother does. "Oh Mattie!"

Arthur on the other hand, flushes a dark color himself but doesn't say a word. They ride in relative silence until they drop Matthew off. As soon as Alfred drives away with the Brit, he's the first to speak. "Sorry about that..." He laughs.

"Oh, don't worry it's quite alright. I'm sure a charmer like you usually comes home at all hours, if not at all-" He stops and looks at the American, not believing what he himself just said.

"Oh is that what you think?" Alfred begins cracking up as he stops at a red light. They laugh off the awkwardness, and continue talking all the way back to the motel. The ride seems too short to the pair, but they know in the morning they'll be able to continue enjoying each others company.

Alfred pulls in front of the motel and stares at his new friend expectantly. Arthur's eyes drift back to him for but a moment, but becomes flustered once again under the hard sapphire gaze. "I should be going then... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right, yeah of course! See ya in the morning!" Alfred laughs and Arthur gets out, watching as he drives away. He makes his way groggily to his room, falling onto his bed. Though he wouldn't admit it, he couldn't wait for morning.

**Chapter 2 is complete~ =D Do tell me what you think and where you want it to go! ^^ Arthur's job starts tomorrow~ and who will the journalist be? Is that even important? How much can really happen in just a week for the American and the Brit? I'll update soon! Sooner with nice reviews love! 3**


	3. First Day On The Town

-knock knock knock-

"Hmm" Arthur groans into his pillow, annoyed at the incessant pounding the the hotel room door.

"Artieee! Get up!" Alfred's loud voice resonates from the other side of the door.

With a loud complaint, Arthur rolls out of bed and opens the door. He greets Alfred with tired eyes, ruffled sandy blond hair, and is still clad in his pajamas.

"Oh Artie, did we stay out too late last night?" He teases, walking into the room with the Brit. "Well then, what are we doing today?" Alfred sings.

"Well," Arthur pulls out his schedule with a yawn, stealing a glance at the American. A soft smile steals his expression but he quickly turns his focus back on the papers in his hand. "It seems today there's the Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Empire State Building if we can. Don't worry, my boss took care of tickets and such."

"Of course, that's easy! One day for just those? Will do!" The American beams and walks over to the other. He leans on the back of his chair so his head is right next to Arthur's. "You, should probably get dressed though."

"Eh? Oh, right!" Arthur jumps up, partially from the sudden closeness. He runs to his suitcase, pulling out an outfit and slipping into the bathroom.

Alfred waits, falling on the bed. The door opens a few minutes later and emerald eyes fall onto the man on the bed. "By the way Alfred, you _are_ aware it's only eight in the morning, correct?" He raises an eyebrow and puts his toothbrush back in his mouth.

"Ohh," He chuckles, rolling onto his back. "Yeah, I know it's kinda early... I was just excited I guess."

"Hmm quite." Arthur mumbles through his mouthful of water before spitting. He grabs his brush and tugs it through his sandy blond hair.

"Come onnn." Alfred complains impatiently.

"Oh hush!" The Brit walks out of the bathroom and grabs his camera bag, hoisting it over his shoulder along with his envelope that has everything they'll need today. "Ready to go?"

"Finally!" Alfred jumps off the bed and grabs his hand, pulling him out the door. "Alright! Let's start with breakfast! According to your paper thingy we have till about noon to catch the ferry to the Statue. And dear _god_ this is a swanky place huh? I didn't know we had motels like this..."

"Swanky? I suppose it's rather nice..." Arthur looks around the hallway as they walk. His eyes stop between them though when he sees their hands are still connected. It would seem Alfred is oblivious. "S-so where are we going to breakfast?"

"Did you just stutter?" Alfred snickers jokingly but doesn't wait for an answer. "Norma's. It's a little place I love and it's not far from here, just a few streets down. It's part of a hotel, but Norma's has the best breakfast in town!"

As they walk down the hall, Alfred still holds the Brit's hand. He thinks to himself as to why, but can't think of a good reason. He tries to justify it in his mind, thinking he's just 'hurrying him along' as he's still walking in front of him when in reality it just feels right. He can't help but ponder why Arthur hasn't pulled away... Before he realizes it they're at his car.

"Um... Alfred... I'm gonna need you to let go now..." Arthur's face flushes to a deep bloom of red as he looks at their hands.

"Oh, right!" Alfred lets go and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "By the way, I'm officially done responding to Alfred! It makes me sound so old, call me Al!" He grins proudly and climbs into the car.

Arthur tries his door only to find it locked. "Alfred, let me in?"

The other blond raises an eyebrow at him with a devious smile. The Brit sighs heavily but involuntarily smiles a little. "Al?" -click- He climbs into the car, dropping his camera bag to the floor and puts his envelope on the center console. "So, breakfast then?"

"Yes! Onward, to Norma's!" He points dramatically in front of the car. Alfred turns on the radio as he pulls out of the parking lot.

"Is this place even going to be open when we get there?" Arthur looks at him skeptically.

"Of course, they opened a seven!" He turns to the Brit proudly.

"Of course it did..." He smiles weakly in response before shyly averting his gaze to his schedule, looking over the week.

"I think this week needs to go realllly slow." Alfred smiles at the road ahead, talking more to himself than to Arthur.

"Is that so?" Arthur couldn't help but chime in.

"Of course! You're so cool! But, when you go back you'll be like..." His brows furrow in thought. "A few thousand miles away! Plus, you said this is your first time in America! Who knows when you'll come back, and I don't know if I'll ever get there!" His expression morphs to discomfort, as if he's doing math in his head.

"O-oh? I didn't know it mattered so much to you..." His face darkens slightly as he focuses on the papers in his hands. Or, tries to rather. Either way he finds his eyes wandering back towards the American. Shaking his head of thoughts, he comes to the conclusion he hasn't had enough sleep as he feels his heart pounding a bit harder than usual.

"Of course it does! Like I said, you're really cool! I like spending time with you for some reason..." His words trailed off as if he wasn't sure why he was saying this... Alfred thinks hard about what he's trying to accomplish by telling this to the Brit.

"I see." Now Arthur's face is a furious red and he attempts to hide it behind his light hair as he set up his camera, twisting on the lens and such.

"Dude?" Alfred looks at Arthur, who returns the gaze of the sapphire orbs. It's like he's hypnotized as he stares at the American, and he's positive his heart is visibly pounding in his chest and blood is rushing through his ears. "We're here..."

"Eh? Oh, yeah, right!" Arthur scrambles to unbuckle his seat belt and rolls out of the car. Alfred joins him, holding the door of the building like a gentleman. Arthur walks past him with his head down and camera in hand. After they've been seated, the pair looks over the menus. "Wow, this stuff looks really good!" The Brit looks at the other with surprised eyes.

"Absolutely! I told you, they have the best breakfast in this city!" Alfred laughed softly. "So, what are you gonna have?"

"I think... I want the chocolate hazelnut fruit filled crepes, and wow that's a mouthful." Arthur smiles a little.

"It will be! I'm going with the blueberry pancakes, they're amazingggg!"

Soon after they order, they receive their food. _Quick service. _Arthur thinks to himself. Among his thoughts rests the temptation to take the American's picture once again, and he can see no reason not to... He puts the strap around his neck and holds it up to his eye. Alfred beams proudly, blueberry sauce on his face. He resembles a child... And finally Arthur presses the shutter button; the one motion he's been craving since he met Alfred.

The Brit smiles as he puts drops the camera, allowing it to hang around his neck.

"I know I'm gorgeous but that's not my hottest look you know." Alfred grins as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"I'm not going for 'hot' you twit!" Arthur retorts with a small smile of his own. He takes another bite but stops when he notices the other stopped and is now staring at him. "Need something?"

"No, but you sure turn red a lot." His face lights up as his words cause the phenomenon he just mentioned. "Still 'getting used to American air'?" He reminds the Brit of what he'd said the evening before.

"Perhaps I am." The smile never leaves his face, though his eyes turn to concentration as he ponders the real reason he keeps blushing. _"Quite the charmer eh?"_ Arthur remembers his boss's words and scoffs to himself.

"Something funny Artie?" Alfred raises an eyebrow as he takes the last bite of his pancakes.

"N-no nothing at all." He finishes off his own breakfast and pulls out his wallet.

"No! Not today, your first full day in America will be perfect! Therefore, I got breakfast covered!" He gives Arthur a thumbs up with a bright smile and a wink. The Brit opens his mouth to argue but Alfred leans over the table quickly to cover his mouth. "No arguing either!"

Arthur puts his wallet away in defeat. After Alfred pays the bill, they go back to the car, though they don't leave right away. "Alright, _Al_, are you aware it's hardly past nine? You said yourself, our ferry leaves around noon. What are we going to do for _three hours_?"

"You know, I hadn't thought of that." He laughs. "Don't worry, you're in New York! There's always something to do! Hey, how about we hit the Brooklyn Bridge first? It's hardly any time at all from the ferry!" Alfred gazes at the Brit.

"Alright, that will work wonderfully actually." Arthur stares blankly at the papers in his hand as his other hand tightens on his camera.

"Then it's settled! Let's go to the bridge!" The American pulls out of his spot. Though the drive is only about five miles, it takes roughly fifteen minutes as it goes through the city. Alfred turns onto 7th and smiles brightly at Arthur, talking about how excited he is. "You know, you should move to America! Then I could show you all over! I know you'd love living here!"

Arthur looks at him with wide emerald eyes. "Are you off your trolley? I could never move across the ocean, I'd be flying back every week for my job!" He can't help but think about spending every day with Alfred. He loves the thought indeed but can't give up his entire life for a _friend_.

"Yeah, I guess... You could always come work for my boss. I don't know if he needs a photographer though..." Alfred's face falls to disappointment and he slumps back in his chair. He turns onto canal street and the Brit studies his face. He's really concentrating... "I just think it'd be fun! I mean, you could stay with me till you get a place of your own! I live in a two bedroom apartment, and I'm looking for a roommate. Mattie used to stay with me in the summer but he found some one else to stay with like, two years back."

"Al..." Emerald eyes fall sadly on the American but he puts his hand up before he can continue.

"I know Artie, I know. Maybe someday huh?" He chuckles to himself. "Hey, we're almost there!" A few minutes later, Alfred manages to park.

Arthur grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and his camera still hangs around his neck. "Let's go then."

The American throws his arm around the smaller man's shoulders after rounding the car. "Are you ready for a great view? I love it here!"

People are here and there, well, everywhere as it's almost ten in the morning on the Brooklyn Bridge. As they walk, they collect a few strange looks but most simply ignored them and went on their way. Arthur laughs at something the American says and shoves him off. "Alright, come now, we're here for a reason!" He shoos him on and holds up his bulky camera.

"Alright alright!" He voices loudly and stands by the safety rail. He stands 'Titanic style', as he calls it, yelling "I'm king of the world!" Now people are noticeably looking at them as the Brit snaps pictures of the yelling blond. One shot gets Arthur, making his heart race when once again the blue eyes focus on the lens and flash him a wink with a stunning smile. He takes the picture and walks over to Alfred, looking out across the water.

"It is rather beautiful isn't it?" Arthur sighs, looking at the water sparkling with the prime of the sun.

He doesn't notice as blue eyes wander to stare intently at him as Alfred replies. "Yeah it is... B-beautiful..." A weak and unsure grin graces his face and he quickly averts his gaze. _"Why can I feel my heart? Maybe I should see a doctor..." _He thinks to himself, oblivious to obvious per usual. Arthur takes a few more pictures of the bridge; the cars, the views, the high beams and the like.

While he's distracted, Alfred tries to calm his pulse and get rid of the burning on his face. _"What the hell?" _He thinks, wondering if he's dying.

They slowly make their way across, in the end taking a half hour to cross the 1.1 mile long bridge. "Eleven o'clock? Shall we be getting back?" Arthur says, looking up from his watch.

"I spose so!" Alfred smiles brightly grabs his hand for the hundredth time and they begin walking back to the car. _"That would be good for the reporter to know; that American's really have no shame in such things." _And once again Arthur finds himself wondering which reporter has this story. _"I guess I'll find out some time this week huh?"_

"Do you know who the reporter is?" He mindlessly finds himself asking.

Alfred looks up as he concentrates. "I don't think they said so... I'll be meeting him in a few days though."

"Ah, I see. My boss said he'd try not to cross our paths." Arthur gets rid of his thoughts, not finding it necessary to worry about it any longer.

"Oh? That's cool, I like spending time with just you anyway." Alfred instantly laughs of the awkwardness of what he's just said before the other can even process it. "Well come on, let's go!" Still connected by their hands, Alfred starts running.

Arthur has no choice but to run along with him, dodging and diving so as not to run into people and apologizing profusely behind him when he does. "Slow down you wanker!" He tightens his grip on the younger man's hand.

"Oh relax!" He laughs, not attempting to look at Arthur, for safety reasons, and they run on.

When they finally return to the familiar car, Arthur falls in panting heavily. "You don't do much cardio do you?" Alfred teases, sitting in the drivers seat with nearly regular breathing.

"Bugger off." He gasps, resting his head back on the chair.

"Alright, let's get there before you die!" The American laughs and fires up the engine, driving away.

"_Anyway,_" Arthur begins and pulls out their ferry tickets. "Are we going to go on to Ellis Island afterward?"

"Well you're the one with the list of places you need pictures of right? You tell me, do you want to go there?" A kindly smile graces him though he refuses to meet Arthur's gaze.

"Well, I don't know, is it worth seeing or shall we just see the statue and head on to the Empire State building?"

"Well, maybe we can save it for another day? We have all week, or is it a full schedule?"

"No, we can save it, this week isn't packed. There's only so many pictures one can fit into a magazine without making it look like some half-arsed tabloid."

"Whatever you say dude!" A few short minutes later they arrived, and as they are the boring parts of their day, we'll hurry along. The ferry ride, a mere 10 minutes, and they were at their island and on their way to venture the long journey up the 22 stories to the crown of the statue. They spent wondrous time there, as at the bridge. Arthur remained flustered by every adoring look and Alfred was oblivious, yet also convinced he was dying.

…

Over and over, Arthur takes pictures of the American, still unable to get his fill. Every smile Alfred flashed him made his heart run a beat faster, until finally he might take a break before he faints.

The American laughs at him in his weak state believing it's due to the hundreds of stairs. After a fair amount of time in the crown, Alfred's stomach concludes they need to be getting lunch. "Alright, let's go! But, can you make it back down the stairs dude?" He tilts his head as he stares down at the Brit.

"I'll be fine you twit!"

Alfred doesn't believe him, and ends up lobbing him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Put me down you wanker!" Arthur turns a dark red and hides his face from the people around watching them.

"Stop kicking you're going to hit someone!" Alfred holds his legs down tightly "Just relax, we'll be down soon." He laughs and more people watch them, and he sends a few suggestive winks to onlookers. Some of them snicker back at Arthur, who gives them a confused look in return. He sighs in defeat and falls limp on his shoulder.

Finally, they get to the bottom and Alfred drops him to the ground.

Arthur glares at him with a reddened face and mussed hair. "Was that really necessary?" Emerald eyes soften despite his words.

"It sure was!" He laughs and grabs his hand. After they return to the city and to Alfred's car, they discuss lunch.

"There's a Japanese place not far from the Empire State building, or Korean, a brunch place, a cafe..." The American rambles on about restaurants nearby. "Oh! I know! I've heard about this one lunch place, Murray Hill Diner, apparently it's totally retro. I've been meaning to try it, some people like it and some don't."

"Alright then, that's fine." Arthur yawns, looking at his watch. "Almost three."

"Wow, that's it? That's great!" Alfred lights up with joy. "Time's going so slow!"

"I suppose it is, yes. It does feel as if it's been a longer day..." After about fifteen minutes, they arrive at the restaurant. Alfred wasn't kidding, it is retro. They slide into a booth across from each other. A bland looking waitress takes their drink orders and hands them menus. As soon as she's gone again, Alfred looks at the Brit skeptically.

"Maybe this wasn't a great idea." He says lowly, picking up the menu.

"Oh rubbish, you can't make such an assumption on something so trivial."

The menu is generic; from waffles to patty melts. They make their orders, finding the service to be fast and the food hot. Arthur takes a few pictures of the old 90's-ish diner.

…

"Ok, so lunch wasn't _perfect_, but dinner will be!" Alfred beams as they walk. Since the Empire State building isn't far, he'd insisted on walking. They pass one of those stereotypical television stores; tvs stacked in the window playing some American sitcom from the 90's. On the screens, an Italian man sits across a desk from a older woman smoking with about an inch of make up on. The scene catches Arthur's attention and he stares at the screens. The door of the shop is propped open so the Brit can hear what the actors are saying. "Joey, sweetheart let me ask you a question." The fake looking woman asks through her food with a heavy New York accent. She waves a cigarette around before continuing. "Did you ever see the movie 'Sleepless in Seattle?'" The Italian looks shocked and his voice leaks excitement. "Yeah, wow, do you represent those actors?"

"No!" She replies, between drags of her smoke. "But you know, at the end of the movie, where they're all so happy with each other? That's gonna be you, and me." A laugh track plays between certain lines and Arthur furrows his brow in concentration, trying to understand why anyone would watch such a show.

"Wow, you mean you wanna sign me?" The man asks, more excited now.

"No, I wanna go on top of the Empire State building and make out." The laugh track plays, the man gets a confused look and poor Arthur turns a bright red. "Of course I wanna sign you!"

Arthur quickly retrieves his hand from Alfred's, a furious red and ushers them on, thinking of the irony of the line and their destination.

Alfred laughs at the less than subtle reaction. "You're redder than you have been since you got here!" He quickly catches up with the Brit. "What, did that show give an idea~?" He pokes at Arthur's cheek teasingly. "Ohh shame on you Artie..."

"Oh bugger off!" He smacks the hand away.

"Oh don't be such a grump dude!" He grabs his hand again, preventing his escape. "Come onnn, It's just a sitcom! No one goes up there to make out!" He resists hysterical laughter and releases the hand to put his arm around his shoulder.

"You know, maybe we should go there tomorrow? I have some work to do back at the motel and I have to call my boss..." Arthur ducks his head, face still fiery.

"Oh... Alright, come on, I'll drive you back I guess..." Any trace of laughter in the American is now gone, only to be replaced with a painful feeling.

And, as you could guess, the rest of their night was quiet... With mere small talk between them, Alfred drove the Brit back to his motel and left him with a solemn goodbye.

Arthur got up to his motel room and as soon as he shut the door he began cursing himself. "Damn it, what happened to me! Why do I get so bloody flustered!" He's nearly crying. "How could I make myself an idiot in front of a new friend...? Damn it!" He falls on his bed panting. -buzz buzz- He grudgingly pulls his phone out and looks at who's calling. Boss. He's slightly disappointed that it's not Alfred, but soon remembers he doesn't have Alfred's number, nor does he have Arthur's.

"Hello?"

"_Hello Arthur, how's everything going?"_

"Just fine sir, New York is a... different place indeed."

"_Wonderful! And Alfred? He's well I assume? You're getting along with him fine?"_

Does he know? "Y-yes sir, we're getting along wondrously."

"_Right, well, I forgot to tell you to exchange cell phone numbers, just in case. New York is a huge city, can't be too careful!"_

"Right sir, I've got to be going then, we're off to the Empire State building." He lies.

"_Alright, talk to you later then!"_

Ohhhh it would be a long evening for Arthur...

…

Alfred drove home alone, confused at that. "That Brit is one weird dude, are they all that crazy?" He shakes his head. "I know!" He pulls out his phone in a rush and dials his boss.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey! This is a bit embarrassing, I seem to have lost Arthur... We were on our way to the Empire state building and 'poof' he disappeared into the crowd! Do you have his cell number?"

"_Oh, of course Alfred." _He laughs before telling him the number. Alfred writes it on his hand, thanks his boss and hangs up. He dials the number but waits before actually calling. "Will he answer? One way to find out!"

He presses the button and holds his phone to his ear, listening to the other end as it rings. With each ring, his heart beats harder in his chest... "Damn, I'm dying again..."

…

Arthur looks at his phone as it rings again, thinking his boss forgot to tell him something he answers it. "Hello?" His voice drips with annoyance, making the American wince.

"Hey..." His voice is quiet, which is far from normal.

"E-eh? Alfred?" He looks at his phone's screen and sure enough, he doesn't recognize the number.

"Yeah..." He walks to his fridge and opens it, noticing he has beer. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier alright?"

"Why?"

"I don't know really... You just got upset and I don't really get why, but I'm sorry anyway."

"N-no, it wasn't you! Really, it wasn't, don't worry!" Arthur can feel himself getting flustered once more to the point where his heart is spinning in his chest.

"Want a beer?"

"Excuse me?"

"Exactly what I said, do you want a beer?"

"I...I don't bloody know!"

"Will do! See you soon!"

And with that, the other side of the line was blank. Arthur hangs up the phone with a sigh Less than an hour later, there's a knock at the door. "He wasn't serious...?" Arthur rolls off the bed and opens the door to find the American standing there, 2 beers in hand and offers one to him. The Brit stands aside to allow him in, taking the bottle from his hand.

"Now really, Alfred. Such an extent."

"No trouble! Don't think about it, I just wanted you to cheer up! You can't take things so seriously here." Alfred smiles brightly at him and Arthur feels his heart calm a bit.

"Well thanks I suppose." He smiles back and sits back on the bed, allowing the American a chair.

They spend the evening talking, in the hotel room and getting comfortable again. Their alcohol, long gone in half an hour, aiding in such. By the end of the night, they're back to normal, laughing as they had been that morning. Arthur bids Alfred goodnight and sends him on his way.

Alfred drives home amongst the street lights, though it's not _dark_ yet, with a feeling one could only describe as giddy. Though, he hadn't wanted to say goodbye, he can't wait for their next hello.

**Finally! This chapter took SO much research so if anything about the food or whatever is wrong I'm sorry, I live in _Montana_, not NYC so I had to do a ton of research! Longer chapter than the first 2, but it's updated now! I don't know if I'll go into as much detail about his _every _day in NY but I'll have at least 2 or 3 more chapters after this if not more! 3 Drama is drama ^^ By the way, that's a real scene from 'Friends'. I LOVE the show and was watching it just the other night and it happened to be the episode where Joey met Estelle, his agent! ^^ And reviews guys! Reviews are implied and they make me write faster! Tell me where else in NYC is interesting?**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! What _is_ the significance of the reporter? Do I just bring it up to annoy you people and lead you on? What will the big drama, the climax of the story, be? When he goes home? Or will something terrible and treacherous happen before then? Stay tuneddd!**


	4. A Day To Remember

**Chapter 4! =D Enjoy! More awkwardness and flirting and a little surprise at the end (don't EVEN scroll down their, you have to wait or it ruins the whole chapter!) And, I can't say it enough, review! Bacon and pie to reviewers! You'll be reminded of this again ^,^**

"Good morning Artie~!" Alfred sings, walking into the hotel room. "Ugh, how are you still asleep?"

The Brit stirs but doesn't wake up.

"Artie! Come on! Get up you lazy ass!" He jumps on the bed and sits behind Arthur, leaning over him with hands on either side of him.

Arthur's eyes flutter open and he looks up to see the American sitting over him. His eyes widen but he quickly glares at him, emeralds filled with disdain.

"Someone's a grump in the morning." Arthur beams down at him.

"Only when I wake up to a man on top of me." He rolls onto his back and raises a dark eyebrow at him as he crosses his arms.

"Does that happen a lot?" Alfred tilts his head with a devious smile.

"No. Usually I'm on top." Arthur laughs to himself when he sees the look of shock the American presents. He pushes him off and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Alfred stares at the door and laughs to himself. The Brit suddenly reappears in the doorway, toothbrush in hand and toothpaste on his chin. "By the way, how did you get in here?"

"They give you two keys for a reason Artie!" The Brit rolls his eyes and returns to what he was doing, leaving the door open.

This is the fourth morning of Alfred at his door, waking him early. Arthur only has 2 full days left in America after this one, and Alfred is determined to spend their last days to the fullest extent. They've pretty much taken care of everything on Arthur's list of places to go, so they're free to roam NYC but Alfred has plans of his own...

"Alright Alfred, what are we doing today?" Arthur calls from the bathroom, pulling his shirt off.

"Oh, nothing special _today_, I thought we could go to central park though. That's one place you haven't been, and it's beautiful!"

"Fine, fine." Arthur starts, pulling a shirt on.

"_But!_ Not until tonight." He grins, falling back on the bed.

"Well fine, what do we do _today_, my dear gentleman?" He sarcastically bows to him as he emerges from the loo.

"I didn't think that far ahead!"

"You thought _further_ you twit!" Arthur smiles condescendingly at the American on his bed, sitting on the edge.

Alfred in turn pushes him off, laughing hard as he hears the thud. He sliding over to the edge and smiles sweetly down at the grumbling Brit. "Aw Artie, you should be more careful!"

"Bugger off!" Arthur grabs his shirt, pulling him down off the bed. "Ow!"

Alfred laughs again, rolling onto his hands and knees over Arthur. "You didn't think that through did you?"

"Owww," Arthur groans, attempting to push him off. The initial embarrassment has long since faded for the pair as the Brit comes to learn about American affection. Although, this is sort of pushing it, even if it _is_Arthur's fault.

"Artie~" Alfred snickers, poking his face. "You should think before you act." He wags his finger in a faux elder sort of way.

"Oh posh! Get your fat arse off of me!"

"No." He sits up and grins again, now straddling his lap. "And I'm not fat!"

"Alright, fine." Arthur crosses his arms and turns his face away.

"Wanna go for coffee?"

"I won't touch the filth here in America! I wouldn't mind a spot of tea though."

"Will do!" Alfred climbs off, offering a hand. Arthur takes it, brushing himself off and fixing his hair.

"Alright, let's go!"

…

"Well this is a lovely little place, but the tea is rancid." Arthur glares at the cup in his hand. They're in a small coffee shop; low lighting, couches and soft music plays. The Brit had also gone to enough food, dessert, and coffee shops to be comfortable telling Alfred his real opinion.

"Harsh dude! You _could_ try the coffee!" He waves his stirring spoon in front of the others face.

"Oh, no, such rubbish! I'll stick with the putrid tea, thank you sir." He takes another drink with a slight wince.

"I think I got you up too early." He smiles behind his coffee. "Oh, I know! Later tonight, let's go out for drinks!"

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "What brought _that_ up?"

"Who cares? We will, after Central Park!" Alfred continues chatting joyfully and Arthur just listens.

-buzz buzz- "Oh come on!" Alfred pulls out his phone, obviously annoyed about being interrupted. "Hey Mattie!" He instantly lights up as he answers. "Oh yeah? Alright, I guess... Ummm, How about eleven? Yeah, meet me at my place. See ya soon." He hangs up and looks at Arthur with sad eyes. "That was Mattie, he's gotta talk to me about something really important apparently..."

"That's fine, just take me back to my hotel and go on, we have all night." Arthur puts on a charming facade, meanwhile somewhat uneasy the Canadian is interrupting them.

"Fine, but I'll be back for you just as soon as I'm done with him!" Alfred shoots him one of his famous winks.

…

"Alfred..." Matthew starts. "You know that Russian guy I've been staying with these last few summers eh?"

"Well, yeah... What about him?" Alfred tries to focus on his brother.

"I guess I thought you should be the first to know, I'm staying with him this year. It's just kind of a, try-it-out kind of thing. I'm not going back to Canada this fall."

"W-what!" Alfred stares at him with wide blue eyes. "Are you crazy? How well do you know this guy?"

"Al! I know what I'm doing, I wouldn't live with just anyone eh? Trust me! You're my brother!" Matthew rubs the back of his head.

Alfred sighs. "I _do_ trust you Mattie... I just don't know the guy and I want you to be safe!"

"I'll be fine Al..." He looks at his brother with a reassuring smile. "Now if I can ask, what's up with you and Arthur?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" For the hundredth time in a few days he feels his heart begin to speed up. "I'm dying again..." He murmurs.

"What?" Matthew raises his eyebrows at the others last statement. "I just mean, you guys are _inseparable,_ are you like...?"

"What?" Alfred, oblivious to the implication, stares at him.

"Are you two like, together eh?" He sees the shock on the American's face an elaborates. "I mean, it's _great_ if you are! Really!" He puts his hands up defensively.

"N-no!" Alfred's eyes widen, never having considered anything of the sort. "We're friends! Friends Mattie! He would never- er, _we_ wouldn't- or or..." He stutters along, mind suddenly racing with the idea. "Why do you ask?"

"Like I said, you're always together and so happy when you talk about him... I don't know, I just find it ironic your bosses put you two together specifically. You said yourself, you guys don't even have many more pictures to take but you've made dinner reservations at some fancy romantic restaurant...?"

"W-well I wasn't thinking of it being romantic!" He blushes darkly. "I just wanted to treat a friend, that's all!"

"You're kinda blushing..." Matthew looks away. "Sorry I brought it up, you can get back to him now!"

"Righ- hey!" He whines, face darkening more. "Bye Mattie!"

…

"Artie!" Alfred walks through the door of the hotel room. He hears the shower and sighs, falling on the bed. "Oh come on..." He doesn't really want to be alone at the moment, finding time to think about his brother's implication. _'Me, and Arthur...? Yeah right... I definitely don't like him like that!'_ He thinks to himself. "I don't like him like that!" He says out loud. "I barely know him, and he's... Well, a guy!" His internal conflict rages, going back and forth between verbal and silent.

Finally, the bathroom door opens, but to both their surprise, their eyes lock. Arthur is still dripping wet with merely a towel tied around his lithe hips. He's almost...girly... "Hey, you're back."

Alfred flails, attempting to compose himself and falls to the floor opposite the bathroom so the bed is between them. His face blazes and he thinks about what to say, sitting with his back to the bathroom. Suddenly Arthur's face is right next to his own as he's lying on his stomach on top bed Alfred's leaning against.

"Well there boy, you're certainly embarrassed aren't you?" It's Arthur now poking the American's face. "Never seen a man in a towel?"

"Not exactly! I mean, Mattie s-sure!" He turns his head away, attempting to rid himself of thoughts.

"Al?" He was close enough Alfred could feel his breath on the back of his neck and shivered. He hangs his arm over the side of the bed and closes his eyes. Alfred looks at him slowly. His wet hair is sticking to his face and his bare body is still glittering with water. He blushes again as he stares at the form. "So what did Matthew have to say?" He doesn't open his eyes.

"U-uh. Well, not much I guess... He's not going back to Canada this year. That's most of it..." Alfred isn't sure if he wants to tell Arthur the rest or not yet.

"_Most_ of it?" He opens one eye to see the red faced American and smiles slightly.

"Yea- er... Yeah." He stares at Arthur, heart pounding.

"I can see you won't be telling me. Am I right, _Al?_"

"It's not important." He leans his head on the bed and stares at the Brit, concentration prominent on his face. In his head he focuses on his involuntary reaction, wondering if Matthew could be right about his feelings.

Noticing the sudden silence and focus consuming his friend, Arthur snaps to attention. "Alfred? Are you ok?" He blinks his green eyes but Alfred makes no effort to respond.

He heart speeds noticeably, and his hands start to feel shaky. _'Oh God no...'_ He thinks. He blinks and looks away from the Brit. Arthur pokes his cheek. "Who's red now?" He snickers. "Are you alright?" He puts his hand on Alfred's head and moves his face closer, studying the blue eyes.

"Fine..." He scoots back. "Just thinking."

"About what Matthew said?"

"What? What makes you think that?" His eyes widen as he realizes he's right.

"It's obvious! You've been weird since you got back!"

"Well, I did see you half naked dude! That would make anyone weird!"

"Oh rubbish! It's nothing you haven't seen when you've looked in the mirror! Now tell me what's bothering you!" He moves his face close once more.

"Nothing's bothering me!" Alfred blushes, noticing as Arthur scoots closer the towel slides down his hips. "Ok! Stop moving!" He looks down.

"Alfred F. Jones. Tell me what's wrong!"

"Mattie thinks...Thinks..."

"Matthew thinks...? What?" Green eyes stare intently and he cocks his head cutely.

"I'm just worried about him! H-he's moving in with some guy..." Alfred lies, unable to tell Arthur what's upsetting him.

"Oh, I see. Are you afraid he's gay or something?"

"What? Oh, well, no... I was just concerned for his safety I guess... I-I have nothing against gays!"

"Ok, I see. What a nice brother you are!" He ruffles Alfred's hair and presses their foreheads together teasingly.

"Yeah yeah, get off!" He shoves Arthur's face away with a soft smile. "Will you get some pants on now?"

"What?" Arthur leans up and looks down to in fact see he's still naked.

"Plus, you got the bed wet." He points out.

"So I did." Arthur rolls off the bed, holding the towel around himself though it doesn't prevent it from coming up a bit. He goes back to the bathroom to get dressed and Alfred lets out a loud sigh. He's dressed in no time at all and returns to the American.

"So let's get to the park, eh Artie?"

…

"This place is rather wonderful, isn't it?" Arthur looks around the park at all the people. "Exactly how many playgrounds are in this park? We've already passed about five."

"Like...21? Maybe, I don't remember." Alfred laughs, about to reach for Arthur's hand but stops. _"Maybe Mattie's right? Is that why I always want to hold his hand? It's not normal, not at all!"_

"Al? Are you ok?" Arthur raises a bushy eyebrow with a smirk.

"Huh?" Alfred looks to the Brit, confused.

"Well, you seem _really_ weird today, I'm assuming you've got your mind _something_?"

"What? No!" He throws his hands up defensively.

"Oh? Nothing? You're usually so much more chipper!" Arthur snickers teasingly.

"Oh come on!" Alfred grabs the Brit's hand and walks ahead, pulling him behind. Arthur is a bit taken back by his awkwardness, but doesn't want to upset the lad and decides to leave it alone.

The evening in the park is fun, so many statues, playgrounds and entertainment everywhere. The place is huge! Arthur takes it all in, snapping a few pictures along the way. Alfred gets one as well. Sneaking up on the Brit, he pulls him into a one-armed hug and snaps a picture of them on his phone.

"You have at least a thousand pictures," He clarifies, though with a bit of exaggeration. "I figured I need one to remember you by." A blush fades over his cheeks in the warm color of the evening. He takes Arthur's hand and looks at him.

Arthur wants nothing more than to ask what he's thinking. Those blue eyes look distraught, his cheery glow is missing and his hand lacks that normal affection.

"Artie..." Alfred smiles down at the Brit. He pets his hair and pulls him along again. "Let's not get so serious! We need to have fun! You're leaving soon!"

"Alright then, where are we headed?"

"My favorite place in the park!" They walk in comfortable silence, almost as if something will be ruined if one of them speaks.

…

"Welcome to Balcony Bridge." Alfred squeezes the Brit's hand slightly, pulling him closer to himself.

Arthur blushes, but looks away in favor of the view and saving himself the embarrassment. None the less, he moves closer to the American, looking out over the water under the bridge. The sun has fallen below the city, giving everything, and every_one_ a golden glow.

Alfred beams down at Arthur, who's staring intently at the view. There are trees all around, sparkling water below and they can even see the city in the distance. It's the best of rural and urban; city and nature.

People around them glance once in a while, as they just stand in silence, hand in hand. Finally, Arthur's eyes drift up to his friend. "This is a lovely place indeed." He retrieves his hand, leaning over the edge to look down at the water.

"Artie... Can I ask you-" -buzz buzz- "Damn it!" Alfred pulls out his phone. "Hello?"

While he's on the phone, Arthur blushes, wondering what the American was going to say. He must recompose himself, lest he find himself losing his mind over simple things as a raging heart, blank mind or red face. He will _not_ fall victim to his fickle emotions. He looks down at his reflection, noticing how flustered he is and runs his fingers through his hair and allows it to fall back into place. _"Why does this happen when he's around? All I want is for him to get off the phone and come back... That's not normal, I don't need someone holding my hand, or so to speak, I'm bloody independent!"_

"Artie!" Alfred reappears next to him and the Brit's heart speeds up once more, almost unbearably.

"Oh, hello again." Arthur hides his soft smile and turns his head to the other. "Something important?"

"Nope!" The American's eyes glitter more than the water behind his thin frames. "Just some random crap, no big!" He laughs to himself.

"Right then. Oh, I almost forgot!" Arthur holds up his camera, catching Alfred off guard as he snaps a shot. He turns back to the water, getting more pictures of the evening and the people.

Alfred watches his friend with intrigue, loving how he gets excited over his work. He notices how the sandy blond hair glows in the evening sun, and how his emerald eyes stare sweetly at himself, readying his camera. "Al? Are you listening?" He waves his hand in front of the American.

"Wanna go for that drink now?" Alfred smiles and Arthur smacks his forehead.

"So you're _not_ listening..."

Alfred adjusts his glasses and speaks in a ridiculous British accent. "Well then old chap, what is it you Brit's drink? Vodka, beer, wine? Well then, which is it love?" He smirks devilishly, more so when Arthur glares at him with a red tint, assuming it's a result of his last word.

"Well, _Alfred, _I do enjoy a bit of a full bodied red wine, but I could settle for a beer I suppose. I don't believe you'll be taking me out for wine this evening."

"Alright! Beer it is!" Alfred held his tongue. Arthur would get his wine, just not tonight...

…

3 miles in Alfred's car and they reach Manchester's Pub. "English beer, Artie?" He pulls the Brit inside and they sit. They order their beers and soon Arthur is sipping on his lager. "Good idea huh? Can't go wrong with a Manchester beer and some hot wings!" Alfred laughs into his own drink.

"Ah yes, perhaps I'll call you to England one day for a _real_ English beer hm?" A smile creeps onto Arthur's face.

"Right! Or, you could stay here with _me_ and we could go there together someday!" He teases, ruffling the Brit's hair.

Arthur rolls his eyes and tips his beer in a mock toast. "Perhaps one day." The other does the same and they each take another drink.

Time passes of this; drinking, laughing and talking...

…

"Al, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur asks; both are a bit tipsy.

Alfred is fighting to get to his camera on his cell phone. "Hey, this is so I remember where my car is! I can't exactly drive like this!" He laughs, finally snapping a picture and grabbing Arthur's hand again, pulling him into a cab.

After a bit of thought and explaining, Arthur finally tells the cab driver what hotel he's at and they're off. After returning to said hotel, Alfred manages to get them up to his room and figure out the key.

"You can't drink much can you?" Alfred laughs at his friend.

"Pardon me? I can hold my liquor just fine you bastard. You can only drink more because you've got a fat ass love." He snickers to himself, taking off his coat.

Alfred lifts his shirt and looks down at his well built abdomen. "I'm anything but fat!"

Arthur, even in his tipsy state, manages to blush a dark crimson shade. "Bloody hell, put your shirt on! Have you no decency?" He looks away.

The American walks over to his friend with an evil grin. "Are you embarrassed? 'It's nothing you haven't seen before' am I right?" He smirks, quoting Arthur from earlier that day.

"W-well no, that's not that point you twit!" He looks away, wondering why he can't keep his composition as he had when he'd gotten out of the shower.

"Artie..." Alfred's tone is suddenly serious and the smaller man looks up to meet his sapphire gaze. "Can I ask you..." He trails of, slowly leaning down. His heart is pounding and he's suddenly terrified of what he's doing but he can't stop. A thousand years pass before the emerald eyes flutter shut and he leans up towards the American.

Another thousand years pass. Slowly, every so slowly until finally their lips barely brush, their hearts simultaneously speed up and they press them together in a chaste, innocent kiss. Alfred's arms slip around the others lithe waist, holding him sweetly. Arthur is the first to regain his common sense. His eyes widen and he pushes Alfred off, gasping in panic. "Woah, what in the name of the Queen just happened?"

"What? I don't know... We kissed?" Blue eyes widen in realization. "Ohhh I get it! We kissed!" He snickers and the Brit smacks him.

"This isn't funny you prat! What were we _thinking?_ We can't bloody _kiss!_" Arthur falls on the bed with a groan.

"We just did, what's the big deal? We're a little drunk, no one knows. It can be our little secret." Alfred says, wondering why Arthur is so upset. _'Did he really feel like we were just friends? Was I the only one who...?'_ Alfred thinks to himself as he watches the other. _'Oh my god, maybe he has a girlfriend! Or a...boyfriend...?'_ He shut his eyes, laying on the floor.

"I don't... I...Confused...Love..." Arthur begins to snore on the bed and Alfred sighs, getting up to turn off the light before returning to the floor. _'Love, Artie? What are you talking about...?'_

**Dun dun dunnnn! XD End chapter 4! Now it gets fun! What's going to happen now that they've finally acted on their feelings? Is the next morning going to be awkward? Arthur's time is almost up, how will they deal with goodbye? Hint: that's not the climax of the story. And your minds are blown! So, what will they do now? And _still_, does the reporter, who's identity hasn't been disclosed, have _any_ relevance to the story? At all? Review people! REVIEW! Please? =3 I worked forever on this! (not really but still) Make a writers day, R&R! Bacon and pie to reviewers! (told you I'd remind you!)**


	5. Kisses and Dinner Dates

**Added on to the end, I didn't like where I'd left it. Enjoy!**

"Good morning! Er, afternoon!" Alfred sings, obviously with_out_ a hangover. Meanwhile, Arthur hides under his blanket from the loud American and the sun streaming through the open windows, his head pounding.

"Shut the bloody sun off..." He mumbles, eyes shut tight as he cowers under his blanket.

"Sorry Artie, I'm not a god." The American laughs loudly, angering the Brit. 

"If that's the case I suppose you can't shut your yap either?"

"Damn dude, how _old _are you? It's almost one! Get your hungover ass out of bed and shower or something!" He tugs back the covers, finding the Brit in the same clothes he left him in.

Arthur sends a venomous glare his way with promise of death if the blanket's not returned. Alfred crosses his arms to the silent threat and untangles Arthur, grabbing his hand. Suddenly, all the memories of the previous night came flooding back to the Brit.

"Oh my god!" He yells, rolling off the other side of the bed and stumbles back to his feet. "I-I-I... What? I? Shit!" He stares at the shocked American for a moment. "What did you _do_?"

"What are you talking about? Dude, chill!" Then he realizes what he means and laughs. "Ohhh! I get it! Remember, our little secret!" He walks over to Arthur, beaming down at him. "We were a _little_ drunk, these things happen! Don't get all weird on me, I like you! Let's not let one kiss ruin our friendship! Don't be stupid!"

Arthur stares back, every anxious and nervous feeling he'd had that week was suddenly attacking him all at once. He could feel his breath become labored, his knees become weak, and his hands shake. "Artie? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course! I I-I'm fine! Yes, wonderful." He lies with a smile. "I'm going to shower now." He attempts to walk away but he's stopped by a hand on his wrist.

"Arthur." Alfred pulls him into a hug, nuzzling his hair.

"Get off of me..." Arthur whines into his chest, tightening his fists around the fabric of Alfred's shirt. The sound of his real name on the American's tongue is so foreign as opposed to 'Artie'.

"No. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me! You need to tell me you understand; no one needs to know what happened last night. It's not like we did anything bad like sleep together, it was an innocent kiss!"

Arthur blushes at the mere _thought_ of such things. "Don't talk like that! Don't worry, I'm fine! Alright?" He wiggles free and slips into the bathroom. He turns on the water to drown out the silence as he undresses. "That's not the problem Alfred..." He blushes, putting a hand to his chest to ensure that's his heart. "I think I might actually like you. _That's_ the real problem." He gets in the shower, allowing the water to pour over his head as it pounds out all the noise and thoughts.

Alfred on the other hand sits on the bed. "I'm sorry..." He whimpers, staring at the bathroom door like a child. He thinks about his plans for the day, and wonders if it's such a good plan after all. -buzz buzz- He sighs, looking at his phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Alfred!" It's his boss. "Tonight you'll be meeting with the reporter, is that alright?"

"What time?"

"About eight, is that fine for you?"

_'I have dinner reservations at 5:30...' _"Yeah, that's fine."

"Alright, that's great! Well, thanks Alfred, enjoy your day then."

"Mkay. See ya." Alfred hangs up, looking back to the bathroom door. "Artie, don't be mad at me. I think I might, like you..." He feels a stinging in his eyes and shakes his head. "Ridiculous." He mumbles, wondering why he's getting so worked up over something so dumb. He decides he's not going to make a big deal out of their little secret.

…

As Arthur emerges from the bathroom, he too has decided he's not going to be awkward over it. He smiles to the American as he walks out. "So, are we doing anything today?"

"Huh? You mean it?" Alfred instantly lights up and the other nods, slightly shocked at the reaction. "Awesome! Yeah, we're going to dinner tonight!"

"Really? Because, we haven't been doing that all week..." He gives him a quizzical look.

"Artie! This one's special!"

"Why?"

"Because, you leave the day after tomorrow! Tonight will be special!"

"Well why not tomorrow night?"

"I don't know, tonight seemed better? Our reservations are for six, and I'm meeting with the reporter at eight, I hope that's ok..."

"Yeah, that's fine. Where are we going that we need reservations?" He raises a bushy eyebrow at him.

"No where fancy don't worry! We're going to Le Bernardin!" He beams happily.

"That doesn't sound like your every day family diner either." He's still skeptical.

"Oh stop, you're going to love it!"

Arthur sighs, seeing no point in arguing. "So, what do we do until then? We have about four hours..."

"Did you bring a suit?"

…

"Alfred F. Jones! You told me we weren't going anywhere fancy! Why am I wearing a tux of yours?"

"Ok, I _may_ have stretched the truth a bit, it's a little fancy, now suck it up! I think you'll survive one night in a suit, if I can you can." Arthur sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He falls onto the bed, shutting his eyes. "Wanna nap, old man? Don't worry, we still have a few hours, you don't have to get dressed yet." Alfred sits next the lying figure on the bed. He stares at him for a moment, wanting nothing more than to feel those lips sober.

Arthur's eyes are closed, he cold totally get away with it but he doesn't want to piss him off. The American looks away, thinking for a moment. "Alfred?"

"Huh?" He looks back down at the Brit, who's emerald eyes are fixed on him.

"What are you thinking so hard about? You look like you're about to explode, and you're really red."

"I'm thinking about kissing you..."_ 'Oh, nothing at all.'_ He flashes a bright facade. _'Shit! I said the in my head thing out loud and the out loud thing in my head!'_

"Pardon me!" Arthur stops mid yawn.

"I mean, um, no! I mean nothing, nothing nothing nothing!"

"Don't lie to me you bloody twit! Especially when you just told me the truth!" His eyes lower in concentration.

"Well I'm not lying! I'm thinking about nothing!"

"Well I am, and I know you are!" Arthur blushes, turning away his gaze. Alfred's eyes widen and he cocks his head as he stares down at the other.

"What do you mean you are?" The American swallows hard as Arthur meets his eyes again.

The Brit sighs, sitting up cross legged directly in front of Alfred. Their faces are mere inches apart, and they stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Alfred notices the way his hair seems longer since it's wet and he looks so cute as it frames his face. "I mean, I can't _stop_ thinking... Alfred, I, hmph!" Arthur's cut off as their lips press together.

The American's heart is pounding, finally feeling Arthur's mouth against his own. The Brit loses himself for a moment, giving into his temptation. Alfred doesn't want to pull back, because he knows when he does he'll be scolded harshly, maybe even lose his chance to go to dinner tonight. Unfortunately, it's not up to him.

Arthur pulls back and stares at the other in shock once more.

"I'm sorry Artie!" Alfred hugs him, falling on top of him on the bed. "I'm so sorry! I just had to! I had to know!"

"Ha-had to know what?" Arthur looks at him like he's grown a second head while trying to get out from under him.

"What it was like to kiss you! W-what it was like to know how you tasted when we were sober. You know what I mean? Of course not, I'm just crazy..."

"Alfred we can't..." Arthur smacks him in the head. "What are you thinking you bloody twit? You you you can't just go around kissing people; is that what you Americans do? Well you can't just do that! And get off of me."

"You don't want to go to dinner now huh?" Alfred changes the subject to his current concern and his bright eyes turn to an irresistible pout, not moving from their position.

"Damn it... Yes, I do I suppose. But don't give me that look!" He smiles slightly up at Alfred.

"Arthur. If I asked... On a serious subject, if I _really_ asked you..." He whimpers nervously.

"What? Get on with it."

"If I really asked you to, would you move to America?" The American averts his eyes, suddenly very quiet.

Arthur stares at him with wide green eyes. "Al, I don't know... I mean, I..."

"I know..." He interrupts, face contorting to defeat. "I'm sorry..." He rolls off and turns his back to Arthur. '_I wish you would... I like you.'_ He thinks to himself. "Ok, enough of this cheesy crap! Let's get out of here!" Alfred offers his hand to pull him off, noticing how he looks like he belongs on the American's bed. '_Or do I...Love you? No...'_

Arthur puts on the suit, and Alfred another. Both well dressed, they head back out on the town. Hours pass just as they shop around the small stores in the city. Alfred stands to be less affectionate, in fear of doing something dumb or making the Brit uncomfortable.

Arthur doesn't like that he's not receiving the regular attention, though he himself doesn't understand why. For what could possibly be the first time, the Brit grabs the others hand and pulls him along. Alfred lights up incredibly, a wide smile on his face. "Artie!" He pulls him backwards into a hug.

"Oh bugger off! It's no big deal you prat!" Arthur flushes, wiggling out of his hold but takes his hand again.

…

The next time Alfred looks at his watch it's past five and they're on their way to the restaurant. "Soooo Artie? You like seafood?"

"I do indeed." He smiles across the car.

"And I know you love wine!" A devious smile is shot back.

"Yes, I do. Is the wine good at this place?"

"Well, I don't always pay more than $100 a meal. Needless to say, I don't go there often!"

"What? Over one hundred bleeding dollars? For the two of us?" Arthur stares in amazement.

"Oops, guess I kinda let the truth out huh?" Alfred rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well you really are a bloody twit." Arthur scoffs at him, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.

With hesitation, Alfred grabs the Brit's left hand. He holds it differently though; instead of the usual prude way they would. Uncertainly, he intertwines their fingers and waits to be rejected but nothing happens.

Emerald eyes fall onto the American, slightly confused but doesn't pull back. Alfred grins back, softly rubbing the others hand with his thumb. Arthur tightens his own hand, oddly loving the contact. For the first time that week, he felt his heart stay at the same pace and was oddly at peace.

Even as they park, both of them look to each other and with reluctance let go. Alfred leads him into the restaurant, fingers intertwined once more with a wide grin on his face. The employee that greets them raises an eyebrow at their connected hands.

Alfred glares at him miserably. "Reservation for two, under Alfred please." He lightens his glare.

From the look the man gave them when they walked in Arthur flushed. _'Is that __not__ normal in America?' _He ducks his head as they're shown to their table. "Alfred?" He whispers as they sit.

"Don't worry about it." The American smiles brightly, obviously understanding what what troubling him. "He's just a stuffy old prick." He leans across the table, softly brushing his hand over Arthur's.

They start with a crab appetizer, and a fancy bottle of wine. Alfred gladly fills his friend's glass, the candles flickering between them. Both of their eyes glitter with gold as they stare at each other. "Damn it Artie, this is killing me!"

"What? What's killing you?" Arthur cocks his head, taking a drink of his wine.

"Can you not feel it?"

"What are you talking about?" He looks at his glass as if it's drugged.

"So it's really just me..." He mumbles, taking another drink.

"Al?" Arthur stares at him, confused.

"Never mind."

…

Eventually, their dinner comes, and the wine keeps pouring. One thing Arthur notices, theirs is the only table accommodating two men and no women. "Are you aware this is a rather _romantic_ place?"

"W-well, no, that's not why I brought you here!" Alfred burns red. "I-I'm sorry!"

"No! Don't be, it's a nice place." He smiles again, rather shyly this time. _'What the hell is wrong with me?' _He thinks to himself, trying to figure out his feelings. "You know, I've had a wonderful time here... I didn't expect to have such a fun time here in America, I didn't even want to come honestly."

"Well, I'm happy you did! You're a pretty awesome dude!" He laughs loudly, earning a few glares. "I don't know, since you've been here I've really seen the city." _'And experienced new feelings... I've never kissed a dude before.'_ He adds with his thoughts.

"Well, that's good to hear."

…

By the time dessert rolls around, Alfred checks his watch and reads just after seven. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"The reporter is supposed to meet me at my apartment at eight."

"Well that's fine, we're almost done here and we can head straight there." He smiles at Alfred. Arthur looks at the ticket when they receive it. "Holy hell!" He whispers harshly. "That's more than two hundred dollars!"

"I've got it Artie, relax!"

"You can't pay that much, just for a four course dinner and a bottle of wine!"

"Artie." He takes Arthur's hand. "Did you have enjoy yourself at least?"

"Well yes, but-" A finger is pressed to his lips and he stops arguing. He quickly brushes the hand away with a nervous blush.

…

"Well, I'm glad you liked dinner." Alfred voices as they make their way back to the car.

"It was rather wonderful, I must admit. Definitely a good blowout before I leave."

"Oh, right... Before you leave.." Alfred whimpers, pulling the Brit's hand into his own. "I don't want you to go..." He hugs him tightly, nuzzling his hair.

"Alfred... How did we get like this in only a week?" He grips the American's shirt.

"I don't know really." Is his response.

They drive back to Alfred's apartment in comfortable silence, hand in hand the whole way. 7:44 when they arrive. Less than 20 minutes later, there's a knock on the door. "Well, that's him." Alfred says, heading to the door.

This is it, Arthur _finally _will learn who the reporter is. Alfred opens the door and none other is standing there than Francis Bonnefoy. "Bonjour!" He sings in a French accent that's all too familiar to the Brit.. "Oh, my sweet Arthur is here as well? What a wonderful surprise!" Alfred stands aside to let him in, slightly confused about how he addressed Arthur.

Francis walks in, straight to Arthur who's sitting on the bed, petting his hair and lifts his chin. "Oh how I've missed you mon cher! It's been so long since we were assigned to a story together!" A devious smirk covers his face; one that goes unseen by the American. "Well," His voice lowers, "My love, soon enough you'll be back home in England with me." He leans down, with an evil grin presses his lips to Arthur's suddenly. 

In that moment, Alfred can only be a spectator as he believes his heart literally breaks. He can feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes and his body is suddenly wanting to convulse with sobs. Not wanting to see the rest of the kiss, he slips into the bathroom and runs sink water so as not to be heard. "So he did have a boyfriend... How could I be so stupid..." He whispers to himself, one tear escaping it's confinement and sliding down his face. He sits in there for a few minutes, still in shock that he could be so blind about Arthur's relationship. Alfred finds himself embarrassed, having kissed him twice and actually allowing himself to care about him. "I think I was falling for you." His shoulder's begin to shake with withheld sobs. He's pulled out of his thoughts as there's a knock on the door.

"Alfred! I can explain, open this bloody door!" Arthur wants to cry as well, but keeps himself composed. _'How could Francis be so cruel?'_

To his surprise, it does open, but he feels a pain in his chest at the sight. The door opens to reveal a tear stained rendition of the usually happy American. What hurts the most is that his eyes are angry; a dark, piercing blue that demands no explanation just retreat.

"Please..." Arthur's voice cracks with emotion. "Let me explain, it's not what you think!"

"Explain? What is there to explain? Y-you let me care! Alright? You let me like you, and you _never_ even attempted to tell me about him. You never once mentioned a boyfriend, and you just let me care."

"Boyfriend!"

"Yeah, you never mentioned that dude and he waltzes in here tonight claiming how much he misses you and you just let him kiss you! In front of me at that! Is that why you asked me all week who the reporter was? Were you afraid your little game with how I feel would be over if I met your boyfriend?" Alfred's breathing heavily with anger, tears on his face and his voice gets louder with every sentence.

"Alfred, please! I-" Arthur hurts with every angry accusation spouting from the American.

"No. I don't want to hear it! That's one thing that's not different about American and England, Arthur. It still hurts to find out the person you actually let yourself care about was lying the whole time. Well you know what? Go. Go back to your hotel tonight, and don't come see me tomorrow. You leave the day after that, and I never want to see you again alright?"

"Alfred! Please! Just listen to me!"

"No! I said leave!"

Defeated, as he can no longer bear to watch his friend yell at him and cry in such a way, Arthur retreats and walks out the door with a saucy good bye from the damned Frenchman. He catches a cab, and rides to the hotel in a broken silence.

Alfred on the other hand, recomposes himself and returns to Francis. "I'm sorry about that." He says quietly.

"No, I'm sorry! I was unaware my presence would cause such an uproar." He feigns regret and innocence as he speaks. "And I'm sorry he didn't tell you about me, if I had known I wouldn't have done such a thing. I've just missed him so much." He wears an invisible smirk as he lies.

"So you two are like, together?" Alfred asks hesitantly, unsure if he wants to know the truth.

"Oui." He continues the lie. Alfred bites his lip, not knowing it's not true.

"You know? I've had a long night and have a bit of a headache from the wine, we can talk tomorrow. Sorry." He doesn't mean the sorry part, but he wants nothing more than to be alone.

"Alright then, give me a call tomorrow." He smiles and hands Alfred a piece of paper with his number.

"Yeah, right. See ya." He flashes him a half hearted wave as he walks out the door, but he's not done for the night...

**OMG you know who it is now! =D I'll update soon! Review for me please? Nicely? Who knew Francis would be such a jerk, but perhaps he has reason? Yes, it's still a UsUk story don't worry ^^ What else will Francis do after he's left? And most of all, will Alfred and Arthur make up? Or is this the end for them? You'll see! Oh and, I wasn't leading you on with the reporter :3 He is important! Yaay! Review for me my lovelies!**


	6. A Happy Ending?

**Final chapter, enjoy =P**

Arthur sits on his bed in his motel, a glass of scotch in hand. He's already finished off several beers, but found himself wanting something stronger. "How could he? _Why _would he? Damn it Francis..." He takes another drink, feeling himself start to cry again. "Al... I'm so sorry, but damn it! Why the hell won't you listen to me!" He wails, already somewhat drunk. He picks up a stack of pictures he's taken, flipping through them with a heavy heart. He finds only a little comfort in seeing the pictures of the smiling American.

"How did things get so complicated Al?" He takes out his phone and just stares at the American's name. "How did I manage to get myself so far fallen for you in less than a week? Love at first sight? No, that's a load of rubbish..." He closes his eyes, just as there's a knock on his door. "Alfred?" He mumbles, heart speeding a bit. He rolls of the bed and stumbles to the door, opening it hopefully. "_You bastard!_" He yells, seeing Francis in the doorway.

"Shh!" He growls. "It's late!"

"Do I look like I bloody care!" He yells, just as loud, as he waves his scotch at the Frenchman. "But thank you, thank you for ruining this job for me. I was actually enjoying being in America, even after I thought it would be insufferable. So thank you, Francis, for proving to me that I can't have fun while I work and for showing me I don't deserve a guy like him." Arthur rambles through his alcohol drenched thoughts.

"I didn't know you were looking for a guy, mon cher, but I can assure you Alfred likes you."

"Oh reallyyyy Mr. Matchmaker? Well I'm sorry, I couldn't tell you could read his thoughts by kissing me!" Arthur wipes the remnants of tears from his face.

"Are you stupid? First of all, do you want to know why I did it? Because of our _boss._"

"Like hell! What did he say, 'go kiss Arthur and tell him it's your mind reading ability?' I'm drunk, not stupid you git!"

"No! He's not stupid either! He heard you, every time you called him and could _hear_ how flustered you would get! He wanted to know what was up with you two, and so did I. With Alfred's little outburst, he straight out told the truth."

"What do you mean?" Then, even in his drunken state, he remembered. _'__You let me care!...How I would feel...the person you actually let yourself care about...' _"Oh my god... I didn't listen either did I?" He stumbles back into the room, falling on the bed.

"See? Now you know how _he _feels. The question is, how do _you_ feel?" Francis smirks to himself, both having the pride in being condescending to the Brit and having kissed him.

"I like him..." Arthur smiles, grabbing his phone and calls Alfred.

…

-buzz buzz- Alfred looks wearily at his phone, cringing, though happy as he sees the name. As he's about to answer, he changes his mind. "Arthur..." He whines. "Like hell." He he throws his phone with a scoff.

Arthur's face turns to hurt as the ringing stops and Alfred's voice pierces him through his voice mail message. He sighs, hanging up without leaving a message. "He didn't answer." He says, though it's not necessary.

Arthur fills his glass with more scotch and downs it before just grabbing the bottle. "Screw him..." He mumbles.

"Wouldn't you_ love_ to." Francis says snidely, an evil grin on his face.

"Pardon me? Why are you still here?" 

"You're drunk, and still drinking. I'm not leaving you alone, you'll do something stupid."

"I'm going to bed." Arthur glares, hugging his bottle like a teddy bear and turns his back to the Frenchman.

"Fine, I'll sleep on the floor, you'll probably kill me if I get in bed with you."

"Damn straight." He yawns, falling asleep, or passing out if you prefer.

Francis lies on the floor, mumbling his discomfort but eventually falls asleep as well.

…

Alfred doesn't sleep so easily. He lays in bed, unable to deter his thoughts from Arthur. "God damn it!" He yells, flipping onto his back. "I can't wait till he's back in England. I'll forget about him, and I obviously meant nothing to him." He crosses his arms, though his heart disagrees. "Fine, I _guess_ I should have listened to him..." He sighs. "I'll go see him in the morning." He decides, not looking forward to it. "God I'm a douche..."

…

"Arthur? Time to wake up." Francis crosses his arms. "Oh come on! Get out of bed, are you so lazy!"

-knock knock- Arthur's eyes shoot open. "Alfred?" Is the first thing out of his mouth.

"That or the maid." Francis believes it's the latter. He's proved wrong as he opens the door.

"What the hell?" Alfred snaps, seeing the Frenchman open the door and Arthur still groggy in his bed cuddling a now empty bottle of scotch.

"This does look bad doesn't it?" Francis chuckles quietly.

"What the hell did you do to him!" Alfred yells, but not at the Frenchman, at Arthur. "You know what, whatever. What you do with your boyfriend is none of my business." He leaves down the hall and Arthur runs after him, leaving Francis behind.

"Alfred! Please, listen to me this time damn it!" He grabs the back of the American's shirt. "He's not my bleeding boyfriend you insufferable git! How the hell dare you! All I did was try and _explain_ he and I aren't dating, and you won't hear a word I say! Well this isn't about you!"

Alfred stares at him in shock, surprised by the sudden outburst.

"You have no idea what bloody happened. I work with him, alright? That's it! I _hate _him! With everything I have, I _hate _him! He came in and kissed me because our boss suspected something between you and me and so did that frog. He's not stupid either, he got the truth out of you! And out of me! But you know what? I don't care! Because you didn't even care what I had to say, because you were focused on yourself. What about me? The idiot I hate comes in and kisses me and the guy I really like witnesses it, and hates _me _for it! If you're going to be mad at anyone, be mad at him!"

"Arthur!"

"No! You didn't listen and now I won't. You bastard, completely disregarding me!"

"Oh yeah, you _really _liked me I'm sure! You shut me down so many times, blaming me for the first kiss and rejecting me after the second! If you liked me, the only reason you would do that would be if you were in a relationship. He said you were. I believed him, alright!" Alfred manages to get some thoughts out.

"Or, maybe I didn't _want_ to like you you ass! Ever think of that? Tomorrow morning I'm going almost 3,500 miles away and hell knows if I'll be back! Maybe I didn't want anyone to get hurt! God, you're so bloody stupid!" Arthur sends him a final venomous glare and leaves the stunned American in the hall. "Oh and, goodbye you prat." He finishes, slamming his door.

Alfred knocks on the door and calls the Brit several times but receives no response. Eventually, he has no choice but to leave, but he has a plan.

… "Hello?"

"_Francis?"_

"Yes sir. I wanted to call and say I think you should put a new reporter on this story. I don't think Alfred will willingly talk to me anymore."

"_Why? What did you do?"_

"I only made him and Arthur realizes the truth! I think they're in love; no one would know better than me!"

"_Love? It's been a week! I figured a crush at best, you know, merely infatuation."_

"That makes no difference! It's love I tell you! But both of them are a bit mad at me..."

"_I'll call you back later, Alfred's calling. That's odd. We'll talk later."_

Francis sighs in his own motel room now, bored.

…

Arthur packs his suitcase, ready to go, only one problem. His flight is hours away, and home even longer but he can't dwell on Alfred.

Little does he know, the American has one last trick up his sleeve.

…

Finally, as it was eight days ago, Arthur goes to the airport and boards his plane in a comatose state. For a brief moment as he sits on the plane, he regrets it and wishes for his cliche movie sequence. He half expects Alfred to come running through the terminal and sweep him off his feet but he remembers life isn't a romance and no one is going to stop him from leaving America and Alfred...

His thoughts are only confirmed as the plane takes off and he watches the city disappear below him. He feels stinging in his eyes and leans his head against the window. "I'll miss you..." He sleeps most of the flight, even too distracted to notice the turbulence in the moments he's actually awake. Hours pass upon hours until finally. "Please fasten your safety belts, we will begin our descent shortly and would like to thank you for choosing us for your flight." The robot voice declares his freedom, and soon he'll be home.

…

Arthur walks along, leaving the airport and his phone rings. Annoyed, he answers to hear his boss's voice. "Hello?"

"_Arthur? Have you landed?"_

"Yes, I'm just leaving the airport."

"_Wonderful! Please, drop by the office, we need those pictures."_

"Alright." He sighs, frustrated he's not able to go home.

"_Thanks! We want to get this story out asap!"_

"Sure." He hangs up, hailing a cab and heads to the office.

…

"Hello Arthur! I hope you enjoyed your time in the states?" His boss beams as he walks in.

"Right, enjoyed..."

"Are you alright?" Genuine concern graces his features.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Is it alright if I take a weeks vacation? Some stuff has come up."

"Of course! You've earned it..."

"Right then, I'm heading home. Give me a call next week if you need me."

"Sure, have a good day Arthur."

Arthur rolls his eyes as soon as the door shuts behind him and finally goes home. Only one problem. His home is so... Empty. He knows that tomorrow morning, there will be no one pounding on his door or pushing him off the bed. No one who's smile challenges the sun... No one that can make him turn so red. When he wakes up tomorrow morning, there will be no one. He looks around, suddenly missing his hotel. He'd just have to get used to it again.

And he does, in the week ahead, he rarely leaves his flat. So many times, in merely one week, he wants to call Alfred and apologize but every time the same thought stops him. "He hasn't called _me._ Why should I call him?" His thumb threatens to delete the number. He won't use it again anyway, why take up memory in his phone? But, he can't bring himself to do it. He curses himself for it, but he can't bear to break that one final connection with the American. Even though it's been more than a week, Arthur still finds himself thinking about Alfred.

He seems to have left his heart with the damned American.

-ring ring- "Hello?" He answers the phone to his boss, worried he has another job for him.

"Hi Arthur! Can you come to my office? We need to talk." Arthur's eyes widen. _'What did I do? Am I in trouble?'_

"Y-yes sir!"

"Don't worry boy, it's not bad!" He obviously detects the alarm in the other Brit's voice.

It's a long ride to the office, Arthur's mind is spinning in wonder of what he could want to talk to him about. If it was a job he would have said so, he always did. "Oh god, what did I do?"

He's afraid to open the door to his boss's office but he does, heart pounding in fear. "Arthur! Hello!" He smiles brightly at him. "Have you read the article? It's a _huge_ hit!" His boss hands him the magazine. "I loved what Francis did, instead of focusing on the differences, he pointed attention to no matter how different, it doesn't matter."

Arthur gave him a puzzled look but opened the magazine. The biggest picture in the article wasn't even one he took. It was a picture of himself and Alfred, the American's arm around him and a look of shock on his own face. It was the one Alfred had taken on his phone. _"I need at least one to remember you by." _He remembers him saying and he feels his chest warm a bit and a soft smile curls his lips for the first time in over a week. Arthur begins reading:

_No matter how many differences between America and England, or any other country for that matter, friendship and love are two things the whole world knows. The universal language, as it is. In just a week, these two both found a best friend, even though they're now 3,500 miles apart, they miss each other to no end._

Arthur stops reading, staring wide eyed at the magazine. "This is the article?"

"Yeah, I'm telling you, everyone loves it but it seems to have left our readers heart broken! They don't want you guys separated. Tragic isn't it?"

"I guess? What's the point you're aiming towards?"

"We want to relocate you to America, and we're widening so our magazine is published in New York! Isn't it wonderful? You'll still be photographing for us, and our readers will be satisfied. Imagine the stories we can cover if you live there! We can even find journalists and reporters in America." He beams, obviously excited.

"I don't know sir..."

"Arthur, you don't have to talk to Alfred. It has nothing to do with him, this would be a huge career move for you, plus you'll be paid more. We've even found you an apartment to stay in until you can find a place of your own. You'll have a roommate but that's not a problem, it's not permanent."

"Alright then, I guess." He just made a life changing decision in a moment, but what does he have to lose now?

…

Bringing along his clothes and some personal items as he's attempting to travel light, he leaves a good majority of what he owns in England. Regrettably, he's saying goodbye to his home, his friends and his life in London. It's not as though he's leaving forever, but it still saddens him to leave the life he'd built here. The last thing he wants is to go back to that airport. It's been weeks since he last saw Alfred, and he doesn't want to think about him again, but he apparently hadn't considered that when he agreed to move to New York City.

He stares at his one way ticket with a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. He sits in the lobby, waiting to board and wonders how everything went by so fast. One moment, he found himself falling in love, with a man no less and the next, he was isolated and heart broken in his home and now he's going back to New York, to live with a stranger in order to further his career. Idiotic, he thinks but so far he hasn't been proving to make the bast decisions so why not?

For the last time, he suffers the long flight to America. Hours pass and he stares out the window. At one point, he finishes reading the article Francis ended up writing, nearly moved to tears by the end. "Bloody frog's a good writer, I'll give him that." He mumbles, suddenly finding himself back where he was, Alfred on his mind. Not the bad part though, not their fight. He thinks about the fun they had; how innocent it was. He smiled, and looked at the picture of them before closing the magazine and putting it away.

…

He walks through the airport in New York. He thinks back to the first time he did this, and how Alfred had yelled through the crowd. Now all there is is the mumbling of the peoples' conversations around him. He eventually manages to hail a cab, reading off the address his boss gave him of his new home. With bad traffic and distance, Arthur has even more time to sit back and think. He stares at the city, so much of it seeming familiar. Of course, all buildings look the same, don't they? Fifteen minutes pass and Arthur grows intrigued, noticing that the buildings _are_ familiar. He's seen them before... The cab stops in front of an apartment building and he gives the Brit a price. Arthur mindlessly overpays the man and gets his stuff from the car as quick as he can. He knows this building, he's been here. "My boss wouldn't..." He mumbles, checking the apartment number on his paper he practically runs down the halls. He finally stops in front of the correct apartment, a single tear running down his cheek. He pulls out the key his boss gave him and slowly puts it in the lock, turning it cautiously without believing what's happening, his heart pounding heavily at this point.

Ever so slowly he opens the door and stares in shock.

Alfred stands there, a sympathetic and shy smile on his face and it seems tears in his own eyes. "Welcome home?" He blinks, startled when the Brit drops his belongings and nearly runs to him, hugging him tightly as tears begin to fall. Alfred grins brightly, lifting Arthur's chin to meet his gaze. He doesn't make a move or an attempt to speak, he just smiles.

Arthur leans up and wraps his arms around the American's neck, kissing him wholeheartedly. Alfred slips his arms around the Brit's slim middle, kissing him back.

A few moments later, Arthur pulls back but doesn't let go.

"Welcome home." Alfred says again, sure of himself this time and puts his forehead against Arthur's.

"Home..." Arthur repeats, staring at those beautiful blue eyes and smiles shyly as Alfred kisses him once more...

**End! =D Told you Francis was up to something ^^ Who knew he'd help them? I did, but yeah. Cheesy end is cheesy, but it makes you people happy. Should I do more stories like this? Telll meeeeee~ Nicely! I like reviews =3 But yeah, that's the end of the story ^^; Thanks for readinggg!**

_**~K**_


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